ThreeMature

THREE.

I closed my eyes and rested my head in my arms. I thought about what Graham said for a long time - how he could know things that no one else did, things that were only ever in my head, and I came to the conclusion that I was the crazy one.

“I see you haven't moved an inch since I left,” a familiar voice said.

I glanced up to see Graham hovering over me. He was frowning. I exhaled and asked him what he wanted.

“Well, you haven't moved for awhile so I was coming to make sure you weren't dead.”

“How nice,” I said, rolling my eyes.

He nodded and sat on the table, crossing his legs. Then he smirked at me. “You can't do that, think you're the crazy one and not expect me to know. I told you the truth.”

“But what you've told me is completely absurd,” I said. “I don't believe in that shit. People are normal, they don't have anything supernatural or otherwise in them.”

He just smiled.

“What the hell are you smiling for?” I snapped. I rose and glared at him.

“God, you're really pissy.” He reached over a grasped a strand of my dark hair. “You really should get something for that headache. Or maybe you're PMSing.”

I snatched his hand, using my nails to dig into his flesh. “You're such a bother, you know that? What are you even doing hitting on a sixteen-year-old?”

He pulled his hand away and shot me a scathing look. “I'm a bother? That's funny. Did anyone ever tell you that you should be a comedian, Vivian? And, for your information, I wasn't hitting on you.” He squinted at me. “How old do you think I am?”

“Twenty-” I began.

Graham gave a snort of laughter. “I really look that old? Sorry, babe, but I'm just a year older than you.”

I was surprised and apparently it was evident on my face. Before I could ask my next question, he answered for me.

“Eighteen,” he replied. “And you'll be seventeen in a month. Correct?”

I nodded.

“All of this is so strange.” I sank back down. “I can't remember anything about the accident, and then you show up claiming to have saved my life, and I find out you have these powers.” I rubbed my head, trying to lace everything the right way.

“I did save your life,” he told me. He was still on the table, his hands on his knees. He sighed, seeming to struggle for words for the first time. “It's difficult to explain.”

I folded my arms around my chest and leaned back in the chair. “I've got time,” I say.

So Graham started to tell me about the night I died. The night that changed everything, because when I was brought back, something came with me.

The End

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